Meetings in the Kitchen
by alyssialui
Summary: <html><head></head>Draco is haunted by nightmares and decides to go down to the kitchens for something to warm him up and calm his nerves. Is there someone out there that can help him to deal with his problems and not just ignore them? Draco/OC.</html>
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Draco is haunted by nightmares and decides to go down to the kitchens for something to warm him up and calm his nerves. Is there someone out there that can help him to deal with his problems and not just ignore them? Draco/OC. RxR. FxF. _I do not own Harry Potter.__

_Submission for:_

_**Fanfiction Terminology Challenge: Multi-chap**_

_****Hogwarts Fair 2014 Challenge/Competition: Mini Golf****_

_Prompt: Write about something taking place in the Hogwarts kitchens_

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><p>Draco could not sleep. There were whirling thoughts in his mind and a weight on his chest. He had been tossing in his bed for hours before he had finally given up. He walked out of his shared dorm and down into the cold Slytherin common room. The fire had been put out, allowing the cold to seep into the walls. Draco shivered, wishing he had grabbed a shirt before coming down here.<p>

He sat there in the dark common room alone just thinking and making himself even sicker. He wanted to sleep so badly but every time he closed his eyes and lay back on the couch, his dreams were filled with frightening visions and he would wake back up with a gasp only having got a few minutes rest. He needed to do something. He needed something warm. He needed something to calm him down and to put the horrid thoughts at bay.

It was past midnight and all the castle was quiet as the students slept in their beds. Moonlight shone through the open spaces in the stone walls, lighting the corridors that ran throughout the structure. But that was for the floors above ground. Below ground in the dungeons, no light shone into the cold passageway. But he chose to remain in the dark, using only the muted light on the torches of the wall to guide him to his destination. He did not want to risk being caught outside of bed simply because of bad dreams.

Crabbe and Goyle had told him to locations of the kitchen a few years back when he had asked how they always had a constant supply of food in the dorm. He stood before the large portrait of a bowl of fruit and tickled the pear before he stepped through.

The kitchen was empty and clean, the tables wiped down and the ovens and burners spotless. There were no sounds as the house-elves as well were sleeping at this time of night. He stepped further in, smiling a bit at the large fire at the end of the room that warmed him from his head to his toes. This was much better than the Slytherin dorms. But he wondered how he would get something warm to drink now.

"Sir?" a soft voice asked behind him. He turned to see a small female elf gazing up at him with large brown eyes. She had very large ears and tomato nose and was wearing a blouse and skirt.

Though it was odd to see an house-elf in clothes, Draco regarded her indifferently. Normally, in one of his worse moods, he would have shouted at her, demanded his drink and thrown in a good kick for good measure. But right now, he just felt haunted and fatigued. He said quietly, "Could I bother you for a cup of hot chocolate?"

The little elf nodded enthusiastically before running off. A small smile graced Draco's face as he took a seat at the nearest long table and waited. The hot chocolate wouldn't solve his problems but it would help him for now.

The little elf bustled back over to him with a small tea tray, his lone mug of hot chocolate sitting on it. With a small smile, she placed it on the table and curtesyed, "Your drink, Sir."

Draco picked up the mug and took a small sip. It was perfect, with a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg, with floating marshmallows. "Thank you," he said without really thinking out it.

The little elf's eyes widened before saying, "You're welcome, Sir," before she ran off and left the blonde-haired wizard with his chocolate.


	2. Chapter 2

_Prompt: Write something you've never written before. _

_I've never written a story about the house-elves or even from their POV, so here's my first attempt. And it's slightly Dobby/Winky. Writing how the house-elves talk is annoying because they don't use pronouns and always talk in the third-person._

_Also a submission for:_

_**Pick a Card, Any Card Challenge****: **Ten of Spades: Write a Dobby/Winky fic_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>Winky ran into the little corner she and Dobby shared. "Dobby! Dobby!" Winky cried, waking up a few grumbling house-elves in the process. They glared at her before laying back down to sleep. The other house-elves didn't like them very much as they were 'free' elves. House-elves weren't supposed to be free. House-elves were supposed to live with their masters and serve them and their families for life. Winky had been so upset when she was freed from the Crouches. She had begun drinking too much, but Dobby was there. Dobby was free too. And Dobby was looking out for Winky. Dobby had helped Winky to finally stop crying over her family and to stop drinking. Dobby was good for Winky, and they had gotten closer.<p>

Winky crouched down and shook Dobby awake. "Winky," Dobby said softly as he opened his eyes. He was laying down on his large pile of socks, the makeshift blanket he and Winky shared as a bed. He had three pairs of socks on his feet, and another pair on his ears. When he finally woke up, Dobby took in her frantic expression and asked, "What's wrong, Winky?"

"There's someone in the kitchen!" she said excitedly, her large brown eyes on him. "A Malfoy!"

Dobby glared. Malfoys were not welcome here. "What does he want?"

"Chocolate!" she cried, shaking him again.

Now Dobby was confused. "Chocolate?"

"He asked for hot chocolate, so Winky gives him," Winky said a bit softer.

Dobby rose off the ground and said, "Let Dobby see."

She led him towards the small door to the elves' sleeping quarters and Dobby pushed it open softly.

He saw the young Malfoy sitting there at one of the tables. The mug of chocolate was near his hand and his head was laid on his crossed arms. Dobby watched him for a few minutes, Winky peaking out from behind him, when the boy stirred violently. Dobby pushed Winky back in fright, memories from the Malfoy home fresh in his mind. The boy took a few deep breaths, his eyes wide and his skin pale. When he finally calmed down, he groaned before reaching for the mug again.

"See, Dobby. Winky just gives him chocolate," Winky explained when she saw Dobby's worried expression. "Is something wrong, Dobby?"

Dobby grabbed Winky's hand and looked at the Malfoy boy one more time. She remembered moments like this when he used to live with the Malfoys, when the young Malfoy would wake up screaming in the night. Dobby said softly, "Yes, something is very wrong."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Draco ponders about the things that have led him to this point and the demons that haunt him._

_Prompt: _Write about a parent/child relationship

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><p>With the taste of cinnamon on his lips, Draco sat at the long wooden table and just stared into the fire, trying to forget about his nightmares and his duties but failing miserably.<p>

He had a job to do because of his father's incompetence. His father who was always so strong and confident, striking fear into others, including him, was now rotting in Azkaban. Not that he didn't love his father. He had always looked up to him and wanted to be just like him, not necessarily the evil part but just as sly and ambitious. Now he wasn't so sure. His father was no longer a suitable role model while he was in jail. And now he had been burdened with a suicide mission for a madman's amusement. No, Draco could never aspire to that life his father had.

Then there was his mother. He was a mother's boy, though he would deny it if anyone called him on it. He loved his mother dearly and he worried about her a lot. She was alone in the house, maybe with only her demented sister to keep her company. The Dark Lord had promised to keep her safe while he did his task but Draco knew he could not place his entire trust in that man. His tongue was a double edged sword. He just hoped that she remained strong, strong enough until he could see her again and they could endure this nightmare together.

Sometimes he wished things were different. He wished for a world where there wasn't a power hungry warlord who had enticed his father and other purebloods to join him. He wished he could have grown up normally with a father who worked at the Ministry and handled the family's finances, while he and his mother stayed home and enjoyed each other's company.

They used to have that at one point. After the Dark Lord's fall, his father was around more and his childhood was normal (as normal as a pureblood child's could be). His father would take him to Quidditch matches and his mother would read him bedtime stories before he went to sleep. He longed for those days that ended way too soon.

He had grown up just a little bit too fast and now he felt like a child in a man's body. He couldn't do what was expected of him. He would let down his mother, let down his father, and let down himself because he couldn't do what they wanted. And by his failure, then his family would die.

But if by some odd chance he succeeded, then people would die as well. Students, teachers and most of all, Dumbledore at Draco's own hand. Was it selfish and cowardly of Draco to put his own family's life over countless others? Perhaps, but his fate was already sealed. He justified his decision by saying that even he and his family were killed, that madman would find another way to murder everyone in the castle and the headmaster. He was just saving his family in the process.

Without his family though, he felt so alone. He had no mother to coddle and comfort him. No father to encourage and inspire him. No friends he could lean on for support. He was truly alone.

So he sipped on the one thing from his childhood that usually made him feel warm and loved, from a time when he had his parents around him, a time when he never had nightmares of their deaths plaguing him: hot chocolate with cinnamon, nutmeg and floating marshmallows.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Draco falls asleep after drinking his hot chocolate and his nightmares come for him again._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>He was running, oh god, was he running. He could hear his shoes hitting the stone floor as he ran through the school and up the stairs from the Slytherin dungeons. His breaths were hard and fast and his legs hurt, but he couldn't rest. He had to get to the Room of Requirement. He had to make sure the Cabinet was working. Aunt Bella and the other Death Eaters would be entering the other one any minute and he didn't know what would happen if this one wasn't open.<p>

He was on the sixth floor landing. Just one more to go. But then he stopped. There before him was the same man he was supposed to kill. He was wearing magnificent robes of purple and his blue eyes twinkled as he stood in the dimly lit hallway.

"Draco, you're not a killer," the old man said as he extended a kind hand.

Draco wanted to shout at the old man. He was a Death Eater. He bore the mark. He was raised in evil and taught to kill, though he never actually killed anyone yet. He could be a killer when the time came.

But his mouth opened and he said, "No, I'm not."

"I know, son," Dumbledore nodded. He extended his hand out further towards Draco. "Come with me. Let me help you."

He could feel the warm tears flowing down his cheeks, but he wasn't crying, was he?

"No! No one can help me! I have to do this alone or he'll kill me! He'll kill my family!" Draco shouted.

But still the man offered his hand and said, "You don't have to do this alone. Come with me. I can help you and your mother. I can protect you."

Maybe the old man really could help him. He was the lightest wizard of the day. He moved forward to grab the wise professor's hand. He moved forward to seize salvation and redemption.

But the old wizard fell onto his back, frozen stiff. Draco blinked and saw his wand in his hand pointed at where the man once stood. "No! No! No!" Draco screamed as he threw his wand on the ground with a clatter. He had killed his one shot at truly saving himself and his family.

A cold hand came out of the shadows and gripped his shoulder. "You have done well, Draco," a gasping voice said. The man slithered before him, his long black cloak billowing as it ghosted above the cold stone floor. He stood over the downed wizard to check if the deed was done.

"Excellent," the snake-like man hissed before stepping up to Draco.

He put the tip of his wand under the young boy's chin. "Congratulations are in order. You surpassed expectations, boy. Your family will go down in history and you will be remembered fondly. But you have extended your usefulness."

Green light filled his vision and Draco woke up back in the kitchens, sitting at the long wooden table. His heart was racing and he put a hand on his chest to slow it down. He could still see the green light blocking out the evil man's face. He had seen his own death at the hand of a madman.

Draco reached for the mug. He needed something to calm his nerves. But the mug was empty now. "Fuck!" he said under his breath.

Where was that little house-elf? Then his eyes landed on a small girl in a large nightshirt who he thought was in his year. She waved sheepishly, "Hello, there."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/n: Now I'm going to introduce our OC, Melanie. She's a Ravenclaw in Draco's year. She'll be the one to help him get back to sleep and feel a bit better about himself. You'll get to see her and her personality in later chapters._

_Prompt: Write an extra chapter of exactly 337 without using the word 'and'._

_Also a submission for:_

_**The "As Many As You Want" Competition: **uncharted waters, thorns_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>Melanie found that she couldn't sleep. She didn't know that there was another person in the castle just like her who was unable to allow the uncharted waters of dreams to wash over them. She rose out of bed with a groan before walking over to the dorm's small window.<p>

Melanie always found the view from the Ravenclaw Tower breathtaking. The moon bathed the ground in pale white light. The Black Lake reflected the shimmering stars up above. Truly amazing.

That may have been nice but it wasn't helping Melanie get to sleep. She needed something warm to put her back to bed. When she was younger, her mother always made her a cup of hot tea. It always did the trick. Now Melanie just had to figure out how to get one of those now.

Melanie ran out of the common room quietly, spiriting through the corridors until she stopped before a large portrait. She tickled the pear, causing the portrait to swing open.

Melanie stepped in to see the hunched over form of Draco Malfoy. She had heard a lot about him. She had heard a lot from him as well. Though he may not have said anything to her directly, his prejudiced insults were pointed enough to feel like thorns in her side.

Melanie felt like just running back upstairs back to bed. She would get to sleep on her own. She didn't want to face him now or his insults.

Melanie was about to slip back out of the portrait when a startled gasp came from the boy. He jumped back, almost falling out of the chair, with hand over his heart. His eyes were wide with fright as they stared unfocused at something in the distance. Soon his breaths calmed down enough for him to sit upright on the bench. He reached for a plain white mug next to hand then cursed. His eyes roamed about the room before they landed on her.

With a small sheepish wave, Melanie said, "Hello, there."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This is the last installment of this series. Thanks for reading this far. It might end kind of open-ended and unresolved, but I will leave it open so I may continue it in the future. RxR. FxF._

_Prompt: Write about Draco Malfoy paired with an OC_

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><p>"I'll just be going," the girl said she turned back to the portrait.<p>

He didn't want to be around anyone else right now. Had she seen his sudden outburst? But he was so tired, so tired of everything, he couldn't bother to feel ashamed or embarrassed.

"Wait!" Draco called out before he knew what he was saying. "Uhh... the table is big enough for two."

She blushed and then came up to the table he was sitting at but a good distance away. She bit her lip and turned to face forward. Draco just shrugged to himself. What she did now was up to her.

"Miss?" an house-elf approached the girl at the table. Draco looked over and noticed it was the same house-elf with the tomato nose.

He couldn't quite hear the girl's conversation with the elf, his ears still muffled by sleep, but soon the elf nodded her head enthusiastically. Then the elf ran up to him, "Did you like the chocolate, Sir?"

Draco nodded and said, "Yes. More," while handing the elf the cup. His manners were getting shorter as his irritation was increasing. The elf's eyes widened a bit before she took the mug and ran off.

"You didn't have to be so rude to her," the girl said accusingly.

"I'll be how I want to who I want," Draco said as he put his head back on the table. He just wanted some sleep, not accusing girls. The girl made a small scoff but said no more.

Waiting around with someone in the room was awkward. Well maybe to her, but Draco didn't mind it. He found entertainment in the dancing of the flames in the fireplace. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear the soft patter of the house-elf until she was right behind him.

"Sir?" she asked timidly.

He screamed out in fright, his paranoia heightened by the nightmares and lack of sleep. Who was he kidding? He had been jumpy since he first received his mission.

The house-elf jumped and made a little squeak, the sudden movement almost making the mug of hot chocolate spill all over her. She bit her lip and her eyes travelled back to the house-elves' door. Draco calmed himself down and took the cup off the tray, letting the little elf dash back to her quarters.

Draco was about to take his wonderful first sip when the girl spoke up, "What's got you so worked up?"

Draco just ignored her. He didn't want to talk about it, and talking about it would help no one. There was nothing she could do, there was nothing he could do. Talking about it was unnecessary and futile.

The pause made the girl uncomfortable. He could see it in the way she shifted in her seat, just a tiny bit closer to him, and bit her lip. Then she said something else, "Your chocolate smells really good. Almost makes me feel like I should have asked for that instead." Then she held her mug out above the table, "But this is really what helps me when I wake up in the night. My mother always made me Earl Grey tea when I was a child."

He raised his own mug in response as he took another sip.

They fell into silence once more, just the sound of them drinking and the crackling fire softly breaking it. Then the girl spoke up again, "The tea would help me clear my mind, forget about the bad dreams that I'd have when I was a kid."

Draco scoffed, "Your childhood nightmares are nothing compared to mine."

She smiled widely at him, "Try me."

Draco looked towards the fire, "I rather not."

She moved closer to him on the bench, too close in Draco's mind, "I've had some rather scary and crazy dreams in my life."

"Not like mine, I can assure you," he said moving a bit further down the bench from her. Why was she being so annoying and persistent? As soon as he finished his drink, he would be out of here.

"Does someone die in your dreams? I've had those," she said quietly.

Despite himself, he muttered, "Yes."

"Is it horrific and bloody?" she asked again.

He shook his head, "No. It's quick and clean."

"Oh. Did you kill them?" she asked with wide eyes.

Draco rasped out, "Yes. I killed them." Then he put his head in hid hands, his mug forgotten as the warmth touched his forehead. "It is my fault he dies."

The girl nodded sagely. "I've had those dreams before. Most times I kill my parents, accidentally mind you, but it happens all the same. I wake up seeing their blood on my hands before I realize it's not real. I never understand why I have those types of dreams. I love my parents dearly. But my mind plays tricks on me when I sleep."

"The mind is a scary place," he said quietly, though it was slightly muffled by his hands.

"I find comfort in the fact that I know I'm not a killer. If given the choice, I'd never actually do it," she said as she took another sip of her tea. Her voice had become heavy with emotion but Draco couldn't be sure.

He looked up from his hands and towards the wall straight ahead. "What if you didn't have the choice?" he asked desperately.

She raised an eyebrow, "We always have a choice."

Draco scoffed. This girl was so optimistic and naive. She must be a bloody Gryffindor. "Keep thinking that if you want," he said bitterly.

"You would kill your parents?" she asked in shock.

"Never!" he shouted spinning her. What a horrid accusation. He rose from the table and downed the last of his chocolate, ignoring the slight burn on his tongue. "I don't need to be here for this."

She reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him in place. He fought the urge to wrench his arm away. She just looked so sad, like a kicked puppy, that she pulled at his heartstrings. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I never meant it like that." She took a deep breath and said, "I guess there may be situations where you don't have a choice. You feel like someone's practically holding a gun to your head."

"A gun?" he asked in confusion. Those were muggle things right?

"Never mind. The point is, being in such a situation could be terrifying. I really don't know what I would do in that case, but I hope it never comes to that. I hope it never comes to that for you too."

"I never said-" he began. He didn't want this girl even thinking things she shouldn't.

"You didn't, but you didn't have to either. I can see it in your eyes and just the way your acting. Something is eating you away inside, something you feel you have no control over. But you should do everything you can to prevent from ever becoming your only option," she said.

"What if it hurts others in the process?" he asked while wondering why he was spilling his inner thoughts to a girl he didn't know.

"Now that is definitely a choice right there, the choice between what is right and what is easy. That's something too heavy for young people like us to even fathom," she said. "I think in that situation, don't dwell on it for now. When the time comes, you'll trust your gut and see how things play out. No used worry about something like that."

He nodded, taking her words to heart. She was right. Worrying did nothing, for it was him in that moment that truly mattered. His decision at that moment would seal the fate of many. "But still," she added, "do everything possible before it comes to that."

"But what if it's already too late for that?" he said cryptically as he took his arm away from her and walked towards the portrait, leaving her in the kitchen alone.

He had a lot think about on his way back to the dungeons, but he couldn't deny that he felt a bit freer than he had before his trip. He had found a bit of comfort in her words and her concern. It didn't feel like pity. It just felt like the facts. There was a strange feeling in his chest as he looked into her eyes, but that was nothing. It was admiration. It was just a crush borne out of this emotional moment, nothing more. He probably wouldn't even see her again, but a part of him wished that their paths would cross in the future. He wished that this was more than just a meeting in the kitchens.


End file.
